“I shan’t faint,” I said quietly. “It doesn’t even make me feel sick.”
“That’s right, my boy. Now hold that end while I pass the bandage round his chest.”
I obeyed, and there was dead silence in the boat as the doctor busied himself over his patient.
“Is he insensible, sir?” I whispered; “really insensible?”
“Yes, and no wonder.”
“Is it a very bad wound?”
“Yes; bad enough. The bullet has passed through or else round one of the ribs. It is nearly out on the other side; I could feel it, but it must stay till daylight. That’s it.—I’ve plugged the wound. He cannot bleed now. Thank you, Dale.”
“What for, sir?” I said innocently enough.
He did not answer, but busied himself laying Walters down, and then the lad was so silent that a horrible feeling of dread began to trouble me. I was brought back to other thoughts, though, by the doctor’s speaking out of the darkness.
“Who else was hurt?” he said.